


In the Details

by dreamsofspike



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:30:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt "a scene goes wrong"</p><p>Peter thought he considered everything that could go wrong... but he missed something...</p><p>Mild BDSM references, reference to past non-con, hurt/comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Details

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



Peter thought he’d considered everything.   
  
He checked the cuffs at Neal’s wrists, made sure they weren’t tight enough to cut off the flow of blood to his hands. He checked the blindfold, ensuring that it was secure, but easy against Neal’s face, not biting into the sensitive skin below his eyes.   
  
Peter slid a finger beneath the leather collar strapped around Neal’s throat, indulging in a slight press against the tempting hollow there, and smiling a little when Neal swallowed hard, his lips falling open and his breath quickening a little as Peter withdrew his hand.   
  
Satisfied that all was safe, Peter moved to the end of the bed, pulling off his belt in one sudden, swift motion, noting the slight flinch from Neal at the sharp sound. Careful… always so careful… he moved to Neal’s side, touching his cheek and frowning a little when Neal flinched again at the contact.  
  
“You all right?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.   
  
Neal nodded, a shaky breath leaving his mouth. He bit down on his lower lip to stop the next one escaping.   
  
“You remember your safe word, right?”  
  
Neal nodded again, his bound hands flexing into fists and then opening again. Peter could see the fear in the taut line of his mouth, the tension in his torso, the way he was trembling, so fine a motion that Peter couldn’t see it, could only feel it when he laid a hand against Neal’s bare stomach.   
  
“Say it for me,” Peter instructed softly – a test.   
  
Neal bit his lip harder, turning his face away.   
  
He wasn't all right, Peter knew at once. He'd forgotten to account for one thing.   
  
The vivid sharpness of Neal's own mind and memories.   
  
Peter immediately reached for the blindfold, untying it and tossing it aside before setting to work on Neal’s wrists.   
  
It was close… _too_ close, this time. He’d almost lost Neal to the darkness of his memories.   
  
Memories he’d shared only once, after a close call on a case, when he’d been briefly held hostage at the point of their target’s blade. That night, Neal had drunk glass after glass of wine until the memories came pouring out of him, stories Peter would rather not have heard, but didn’t stop Neal from venting.   
  
Stories of a dark cell… bored, unconcerned guards… a bunkmate with a good six inches and fifty pounds on Neal, and a sadistic streak.   
  
“Keep quiet, he always said,” Neal had whispered against Peter’s chest, as if afraid the man could hear him even then. “Don’t make a sound… and I didn’t… maybe if I’d… if I would have just…”  
  
Peter had insisted that it wasn’t his fault. He’d held him and stroked his hair and murmured soothing words until Neal had fallen into the heavy sleep afforded him by that much alcohol… and then Peter had gotten up and gone into the bathroom and puked his guts out.   
  
At least he knew, though. When Neal got too quiet. When he didn’t dare to make a sound.   
  
When he was hearing those whispered threats in his mind again, seeing someone else standing over him instead of Peter.  
  
 _The blindfold was a bad idea…_  
  
Peter climbed onto the bed beside Neal, gently turning Neal’s face toward him and softly instructing him. “Open your eyes. It’s me, Neal. It’s Peter. Open your eyes for me, baby, okay?”   
  
Neal did, and the haze of confusion and fear there broke apart like clouds dissipating in the sun. He tucked his head against Peter’s chest and put his arms around him, his trembling intensifying. Peter held him close, relieved.   
  
It always got a little worse before it got better.   
  
“It’s all right,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into Neal’s hair. “I got you… you’re safe… I got you…”


End file.
